


okay for now

by deadsea



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-09
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-02-08 03:24:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1924923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadsea/pseuds/deadsea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>harry is fifteen and barely knows what love is, but he thinks he knows what loneliness is and how to cure it</p>
            </blockquote>





	okay for now

Nights are too dark and too vast and Harry can't help but feel empty. His window's cracked open a bit, allowing a slight breeze into the otherwise stuffy bedroom, and Harry can't stop thinking. When he gets like this, he tends to become closed off to the rest of the world, his thoughts illogical but entirely encompassing his brain. It's three o'clock in the morning, and Harry doesn't have an outlet. And he certainly isn't tired. He shifts his position in bed, laying on his stomach and pressing his face into his plush white pillow. Changing positions only frustrates him further. There's a sick, sinking feeling in his stomach, like he's truly been punched in the gut. He feels very small, and perhaps a bit lonely.

He thinks about Louis. Louis lives a few streets down from him. Louis is Harry's outlet. Often, Harry finds himself feeling incomplete unless he's got Louis pressed against his side. It's a new and uncomfortable feeling, something Harry doesn't like to address. Louis, who doesn't ever let his emotions show or get in the way of anything. Louis, who, despite that, likes to kiss Harry sometimes. Louis, who took Harry to a concert and held his hand while they swayed to the beat and told him he was lovely afterward. He knows Louis likes him, but he doesn't think understands how much he needs Louis. He's sixteen: a year older than Harry himself. Harry wishes he understood Louis. He wish he was brave enough to ask him everything he wanted to ask him. 

Before he gets cold feet, Harry grabs his phone from his nightstand and taps out a message.

To: Louis

will you come over

_He's probably not awake_ , he reminds himself a minute after. Obviously, it's three o'clock in the morning, and Louis Tomlinson is probably _not_ awake and not available to cater to Harry's petty needs. Harry feels as though he's truly about to cave in on himself. His eyes flutter shut, and he breathes in and out a few times. His phone buzzes.

From: Louis

whts up?

To: Louis

i'm not tired..and thinking too much:(

From Louis

okay..coming.

Harry can already feel the relief seeping into him, like some sort of painkiller or anesthetic. Maybe just for tonight, he won't be alone.

Louis climbs in through his window fifteen minutes later, like some sort of stupid cliche. Harry feels stupid.

"Hey," Louis says nonchalantly, like it's not the middle of the goddamn night and Harry didn't just ask for him for no reason.

"Hi," Harry says. His voice sounds soft and vulnerable, and he hates himself a little bit for needing this, for needing Louis all the goddamn time.

Louis kicks off his shoes, peels off his socks and leaves them in a pile next to Harry's bed. He stands there for a minute, gazing softly down at Harry. Harry feels more vulnerable than ever. He averts his eyes, fidding with the duvet. "Is something wrong, H?" Louis asks. Harry sighs.

"Does something have to be wrong? I dunno. Everything's wrong." He hates how whiny he sounds, like some stupid angsty teen.

"Okay," is all Louis says in reply. He settles down on the bed, sidling up next to Harry and pulling the duvet to rest over his waist. And then, "what do you want from me, Styles?" He says it with the meager bit of humor he can muster, hoping to elicit a real answer from Harry. Harry winces.

 "Just want you to be with me, for now?" His voice is quiet, hopeful, and he thinks Louis understands.

"I can do that," he answers, moving so that he's face-to-face with Harry, both of them lying on their sides, bodies symmetrical with each other. "Are you sure you're okay?"

 Harry just shrugs, bottom lip catching between his teeth. He feels wound too tightly, like he's holding everything in. His eyes flicker downward, and Louis follows their path before sighing and scooting forward a bit. Their lips are inches apart. He lifts a hand to trace along Harry's jawline, and Harry feels the pressure inside him instantly relieved as he preens into Louis' touch, just like he always does. Louis just grins as Harry's eyes flutter shut, moving the pad of his thumb to brush the bruised skin under his eyes. Harry feels so content that he shudders a bit with pleasure, and Louis can't help it when he leans in to kiss his forehead.

 "Feeling better already?" he teases gently, and watches as a tiny crease appears between Harry's brows when he furrows them.

Harry squints one eye open at him. Louis doesn't mean to, but sometimes he makes Harry feel silly with his comments. Silly, like he always feels when they're together. He wishes they could fix that, and they probably could. The solution seems clear to Harry, but he immediately feels stupid for considering something like that. His brain knows zero and all boundaries when it comes to Louis.

 "A little," he answers finally, mouth slackening when Louis pushes his fingers into his hair, entangling them in his messy curls, grown out long and wispy at the nape of his neck. His eyes are closed again, and Louis revels in the way that all of his coherent thoughts seem to go void when Louis touches him. He looks so impossibly young, his face slack and skin soft and swollen with exhaustion. Louis nudges at his hip and he immediately falls back onto the mattress, allowing Louis to slide on top of him, slotting their legs together. He props himself up on his elbows, allowing himself to drink in all of Harry's pretty features as he hovers over him just slightly.

"You're lovely, you know?" he mutters, and Harry blinks open his eyes a bit drearily. In that moment he feels drunk, and it's all he can do to widen his moony eyes a little bit and part his pink lips. _You think?_

 Louis' answering grin is all kinds of warm. Harry feels tingly.

_I wish we could stay like this forever_ , he wants to say, but he feels stupid. _I love you_ , he also sort of wants to say, and the thought startles him. He keeps his mouth shut.

 Louis brushes his fingers through Harry's hair, softly, slowly. He kisses his hairline. He doesn't know what's on his mind, but he doesn't like it when he's all moody and upset like this. A part of him wants to open up to this boy, to pour his heart out for him. Part of him thinks that's a bad idea. They're both young, and Harry's even younger. But he likes what they have.

 Harry wishes he didn't feel so needy all the time. But Louis seems more than willing right now, and he lets himself sink into the moment, into Louis' attention. Louis tucks stray curls behind Harry's ears, brushing a thumb across his cheek. He lowers his gaze, running his fingers rhythmically across Harry's ample collarbones, visible just above the scooped neckline of his tshirt.

Harry's stomach does flips. He tries not to shift under Louis' focus. He doesn't want to distract him, doesn't want him to ever stop.

"You good?" Louis whispers. Harry can feel hot breath on his collarbones. It takes him a few seconds to muster up a nod in reply. Louis chuckles softly, kissing his chin before dropping down at Harry's side. Harry's head immediately fits into the crook of his neck, and he pulls the slightly taller, lankier boy into his side, petting at his hip. Louis lets his hand rest there as Harry curls into him, head dropping to his chest. They fit comfortably.

"Tired?" Louis murmurs, his fingers still drumming against Harry's hip.

 "Mhm," Harry mumbles, lost in the rhythm.

 "Go to sleep, Harry."

  _My mum's working tomorrow morning_ , Harry thinks. _She won't bother waking me. You can stay, if you want_. He opens his mouth. The offer dies on his tongue.

 He's exhausted, and too comfortable to stay awake for much longer. His previously dimished thoughts die down completely as he feels himself nodding off against Louis' chest.

 

 

 

Harry wakes up early to the sound of his mum bustling about in the kitchen downstairs. His brain, cloudy with sleep, administers the warm weight underneath his head, much better than a pillow, and Harry turns to see Louis' arm splayed out from underneath him, stretching across the bed. 

He feels giddy, but not enough so to keep him awake. Content, he lets himself relax completely into Louis' touch. The two of them don't wake until noon, and even then, Louis stays into the evening.


End file.
